I'm can't be reaching for things on the top shelves of the kitchen - at least not with my left arm - 'cause when I do, my shoulder subluxates and it really kinda hurts. So, I either have to move stuff to the lower shelves that I can reach (I'm short; 5'3") or get a step stool.
What I thought was a hormonal headache yesterday was probably a virus because I felt like shite most of today. Urbaner and Future Trauma Surgeon felt ill today too. So far, Davey-Boy and Wee Man haven't felt sick or rundown.
Teenage boys sound REALLY funny when their voices are about to break. Davey-Boy is almost 14 and is pubescent -got hair in his pits and on his legs and I don't want to think about where else he's sprouting fluff but that stuff on his top lip that he insists is a mustache is NOT a mustache, it's dark peach fuzz - and he raised his voice whilst playing 360 with his buddies this morning (he actually crawled out of his pit before noon today. I was stunned into silence) and all that came out was a screechy squeak. Funny, but sad at the same time...because he was my baby, my little chunk who literally tore me a new one when he was born and who threw up so much in the first few months of his life I swore I was going to drown in a sea of spit up and puke. He's not such a baby anymore, and that's kind of sad.
I still carry the memories of things that I've done and seen, even though I thought I was over them. When I was doing clinical rotations for EMT school, I witnessed and assisted with what was basically a miscarriage - a 17 or 18 week gestation fetus was delivered in the ER. He was alive when he was born, and he made respiratory effort and was really pretty active. He was the size of my hand.....eyelids fused shut still, and tiny. So tiny. He didn't live, obviously. Today I saw a photo on a stillbirth memorial site (I'll explain that another day) of a child that looked remarkably similar to the one I saw and held that day.
I thought I was over it. I was wrong.